


Hoodie - Pulling on the Strings

by grasping4light (serenamaes)



Series: When I Met U [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Hoodie, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, otayuri - Freeform, yurabek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenamaes/pseuds/grasping4light
Summary: Yuri finds it difficult to come to terms with his new relationship, especially with the long-distance. But things are easier over the phone.





	Hoodie - Pulling on the Strings

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Hey Violet song "Hoodie".

It was too late to call, and Yuri looked up at his phone screen. It was nearly midnight in Almaty. Otabek would be asleep by now - he had to be up early for training - and now that he was back at Lilia’s place, Yuri knew he was in for a relentless training session of his own, starting tomorrow morning. 

Whatever. That could wait. 

“Beka.” One text. A tester. Yuri closed his eyes after pressing send and set his phone at rest against his stomach. 

The three hour time difference was annoying. By the time he was awake, Otabek was already working into his day, hard at practice and away from his phone. And when the Kazakh was on break, Lilia would be breaking into Yuri’s psyche. There was never time for a prima ballerina to rest, much less time to waste on something like texting or social media. 

It wasn’t like looking at his phone would make a difference anyway. Otabek hardly looked at Instagram, much less update his twitter feed. It were as though he thought nothing of them being together. Nothing of the distance. They would see each other whenever. 

Yuri growled and ran his hands over his face into his hair. This wasn’t him. None of this was. At times like this, he wished that he had never hopped on the back of Otabek’s bike, that he had never given him his address, or lied with him in bed. 

“Is this what it’s like to have a boyfriend?” He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. It was all so foreign, and the gold filigree in the room amplified everything. He wanted to be home. 

And the phone buzzed. Three short bursts. Otabek had written back. 

“Yura.” Another short silence followed by. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

His heart pounded in his chest, and he smirked at the phone. “Is that how you talk to me after a few days?” After a few seconds, he added. “Besides – shouldn’t I ask you that question?” A series of dots lengthened and shortened at the bottom of his screen, and Yuri thought his heart was going to burst. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Yuri began to thumb over the glass on the screen, when Otabek continued. 

“Can I call?”

He didn’t even write back. He hit the phone icon and held the phone up to his ear. Impatient. Unsteady. Potya was with his grandfather, otherwise he would be petting her. Instead, anxiously he toyed with one of the strings on his hoodie. Or rather, the hoodie Otabek had left the last time he was over. It felt like forever before the ringing stopped, and Yuri gasped at the silence on the other end of the line. “Hello? Beka?” He always had him talking first. Ever since they . . . 

“Yura.” His voice was deep and still, and when Yuri closed his eyes, he could see that stoic gaze soften on the other side of the line. “Lilia lets you stay up this late?” He looked tired.

“As long as I’m in my room,” Yuri whispered, glancing at the door. “She doesn’t seem to care.” He sighed. “I can’t disturb her beauty rest, and make sure I get to practice thirty minutes early.”

“I’m surprised,” Otabek sighed. It sounded like he was rolling over, rearranging himself on the bed. “She is pretty strict with her students.” Adjusting his position against the pillows. 

“I won’t let that hag keep me off the phone.” Yuri’s voice lowered and he sunk further into the blankets. “I haven’t talked with you in over a week.” 

Another movement. It wasn’t like Otabek to shift in the bed, not this much. “A week already? I thought it had only been three days.” 

“That’s close enough to a week.” The color rose to his face, and Yuri reminded himself to stay calm. Lilia could walk in at any moment and take his phone from him. He didn’t want that to happen again.

“Yura,” Otabek sounded happy, relieved almost. “I’ve missed you.” 

His heart was beating faster again, and Yuri gripped onto the knot on the end of the hood string. “Beka . . .” 

“I started training again yesterday,” the hint of an accent tugged at his Russian. Even though they spoke the same language, the words always sounded different coming from Otabek’s mouth. “I think I’ll be working on strength training tomorrow, but,” he sighed. “I haven’t slept well lately, and I’m hoping my coach will change his mind.” 

Yuri closed his eyes and put the string to his lips. “Why can’t you sleep?” He thought his voice sounded softer, lighter when he talked to Otabek. “You usually sleep so easily.” The line got quiet again. “Beka?” Still quiet, but Yuri thought he could hear his boyfriend breathing deeply. “Did you fall asleep on me?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Am I really that boring?”

“I’m awake. And you didn’t bore me.” 

“Then talk to me. Why can’t you sleep?” 

“I told you already.” That fire he knew so well, simmering beneath that tan skin. It was there in his voice. Heated despite the distance. “I miss you.” 

Yuri smiled and cuddled into the blankets, covering his face for a moment. “I miss you, too.” 

“I don’t like this distance between us.” 

“You’re the one that wanted to go back to Kazakhstan.” Yuri growled, nibbling on the fringe of the knot. “You could have stayed with me in Moscow.” 

“You would have had to go to St. Petersburg sooner or later, Yura,” Otabek laughed. “Don’t be childish.”  
“You started it.” It was quiet again, and his chest ached. If he had been there, with Otabek, he would kiss him. Pull him close, and the pain would stop. “Beka,” he asked quietly. “Did you leave your hoodie on purpose?”

“My hoodie?” That movement in the background again, this time accompanied by a quiet groan. Otabek was sitting up now. 

And Yuri imaged he was sleeping shirtless. “Yeah. The black one. You wore it a lot when you visited.”

And now he wasn’t imagining it. Yuri could practically feel the smile on the other side of the line, brushing against his jawline. “I thought you might like to borrow it for a while.” A soft plop. “Bring it back to me.” 

“You did leave it on purpose!” 

“Are you mad at me?” 

He pouted. “No.” He couldn’t be mad. Not with the warm fabric wrapped around him. “It still smells like you.” The words came from his lips before he could stop them. “I mean-”

“So you’re wearing it now?” Otabek interrupted. He was trapped now, in this room that wasn’t his, on the phone with his lover, and he closed his eyes again. “Yura. Answer me. Are you wearing my hoodie or not?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes and glanced down. It was probably two sizes too large, if not more, but it wrapped around him perfectly, just like his lover, who was five hours away in Almaty, Kazakhstan. “I didn’t want to leave it at the apartment.” 

“Do you wear it often?” 

He couldn’t lie to him. His heart beat hard in his chest. “When I go to bed.” He didn’t think he could blush any more than he was already, but the heat intensified in his cheeks. “It helps me sleep.” There was a focused stillness on the other side, and Yuri’s lips parted in anticipation. He kicked off some of the blankets, leaving the sheet over his bare legs. 

“Yura.” It sounded like smoke, heavy and intense like the sensation below his waist. “Is that all you wear to bed?”

“Is that all you can think about?” he scoffed, rolling his head to the side. His hand was moving of its own accord, lower. 

“Tell me.” Otabek’s voice was needy. Desperate. 

“Just my underwear.” He gasped quietly and quickly bit down on his lip. The last thing he wanted was for Lilia to walk in to this. This definitely wasn’t beautiful, and it was really unladylike to have your hand down your pants. And arguing that he wasn’t a lady wouldn’t help anything . . . 

Otabek’s breath shook on the other side of the line, and Yuri moaned quietly in response. “I really hate this distance.” 

“Me, too,” Yuri panted. “It doesn’t feel the same.” 

“What doesn’t?” 

He could practically feel him beside him, breathing against his jawline before dipping his tongue into his ear. “My hand.” he closed his eyes and arched his back.

A nip and a suck as he growled. “What I would give to touch you right now, Yuri.”

“I want you to touch me.” He could feel Otabek’s hand following his own, one over his chest, stomach. To his thigh, where he scratched upward. The other stroked over his arousal. He didn’t know when his underwear slid off his body, but it was hanging loosely around his ankle. He whimpered. “Otabek, please.” When did he become this needy?

The older teen groaned quietly on the other side of the line, and Yuri could hear the fabric moving. In unison. “Yuri.” He was breathing heavily, and Yuri could tell that soon – he shuddered at the thought – they would finish together. “Wear it when you come see me.”

It was hard to breathe, and his legs were burning beneath his touch. “W-wear it . . .” 

“Wear it. Here.” They were incoherent, moving at a restless rhythm, the beat echoing in the cold dark of Lilia’s apartment. Echoing in Otabek’s bedroom in Kazakhstan. His bedroom. 

His bed. 

The thought. It was far too intense for his imagination. Beneath Otabek, rocking in time with his hips, the hoodie still over his skin. “Ahnn!” Yuri cried out, quickly biting his bottom lip to stifle the noise. “Beka.” 

“Yura!” Otabek groaned, and Yuri could hear the bed creak beneath the strain of muscle tightening. 

Yuri closed his eyes and listened intently to the breath on the other side of the line, and hoped that Lilia had slept through his orgasm. The apartment was grand, but it was still an apartment, and the tile tended to carry sound in the night. 

“Yura,” his voice was tired, soft in comparison to his usual strength. 

“Yeah?” he whispered, still catching his breath. 

“Good luck tomorrow.” 

Yuri couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks. You, too.” 

“I’ll text you in the morning.” He could hear the smile again. “I promise.” 

“You’d better.” He smiled softly. “I won’t forgive you if you don’t.” 

“Sleep well.” 

“Sweat dreams, Beka.” The line went quiet before a soft click ended the call, and Yuri set his phone down beside him. Now that he had finished, it was cold in the room, and he pulled the blankets back up to his chest. 

In a few months, he would be in Almaty for a short holiday between competitions. He would be next to Otabek again. Holding his hand. Listening to his heartbeat before he fell asleep. As he closed his eyes, he thought he could hear it now, still, against his chest. 

And before he knew it, he woke to the trill of his alarm, and as he fought to hit the snooze, he saw a text message. 

“Good morning, Yura.” 

And as he scrolled down. 

“I’ll see you soon.”


End file.
